Glitch
by thewingedthing
Summary: Quicksilver (Days of Future Past) fills for the following prompts for imaginexmen on tumblr: Pietro finding out your hurt; Pietro falling in love with you at first sight; Pietro helping you escape Trask after being experimented on; Cuddling Pietro after a nightmare. PietroMaximoff/OC. One fill per chapter. Please review!
1. A Crippling Blow

_A fill for a prompt on tumblr's imaginexmen. There will be four chapters, with each chapter being a different prompt fill. I loved them all, so I figured why not? Let's piece them all together! Starring Pietro and my OC, Tesla.I absolutely loved DOFP, and let's just say that Quicksilver gave everyone else a run for their money (no pun intended, haha). Enjoy, and please review!_

_ps. The titles are based off of the songs that inspired each chapter, just to avoid confusion :)_

_[[(Prompt: 1) Pietro finding out you're hurt]]_

* * *

**1. A Crippling Blow [[The Killers]]**

His mother answered the door in the exact same manner as the last time.

"What's he done now?"

Logan could only blink, eyes glinting hard in the bright rays of the sun, at the exasperated look on the woman's face. It seemed like not much had changed since his last little visit to the Maximoff home. Well, except that Charles and Hank were not present this time. It had been nearly two years since the incident at the White House, and still the Professor's mind was weak with disuse. He'd gotten better with the wheelchair however, much to Hank's relief.

"I just need to talk to him," Logan felt the reverberations of deja vu prickling like an irritating itch in the back of his mind. A heaviness weighted his words, though it went for the most part unaccounted for. Pietro's mother nodded, moving aside to let him inside. He couldn't help but notice the wide berth she gave him as the kid's mother hurried to show him to the basement.

"I know the way," he said. The woman paused, spinning around to eye him suspiciously, the red of her lips crinkling as she pursed them. She looked as if she were about to say something, opening her mouth before shutting it with a frown. Hesitantly she turned around, shouting behind her and she hurried away into what looked to be the kitchen.

"Peter, the cops are here! _Again_!"

_Yep, definitely deja vu._

The basement door was barely cracked open, yet Logan could hear the faint thokthok of a ping pong ball being bashed back and forth rapidly. Despite the seriousness of the news he had volunteered to deliver, Logan couldn't help but roll his eyes. Breaking into the Pentagon sure as hell hadn't slowed Peter's roll for time wasting. Hell, Charles had even offered him room and board at the School a year before its reopening. And here he was, still messing around. Some things never changed. Each step creaked as Logan descended, the old wood whining its incessant protests as his heavy frame moved downwards slowly. Very slowly.

_**~*~Quicksilver~*~**_

He'd been there the day Charles had found her with Cerebro, listening as the Professor described what he was seeing, the girl sitting alone in her room lazily swiping through her meager collection of television channels with a single finger held poised in the air.

"She is fascinating," Hank had murmured appreciatively, a phrase that had a quickening of silver and a flitting, mischievous grin dancing across Logan's mind's eye. The words were echoes whose roots reverberated past memories. The day they invited the girl to the School, she had been skeptical to accept. She'd demanded proof, that they were mutants just as she was. She was no idiot. Charles had bemusedly told Logan that she'd nearly electrocuted him after he'd spoken within her mind. It had worked, though. Tesla Anneal had visited Xavier's School one month later for orientation, and it was through the window of an upper room in the mansion that Logan had witnessed the couple's first meeting. Peter was alone- Logan suspected that the kid had had quite the time convincing his mother to let him go by himself. And he hadn't seen a car, either... The kid looked the same as ever, messy silver hair hanging limply about his face, dark eyes scanning the small crowd quickly. Peter was bored, and that, Logan knew, was not good at all. He was just asking for trouble.

Turning on his heel, he had been down the stairs and outdoors so quickly that even Peter would have been impressed. His long strides had him marching across the grounds and over to the small ground just as Peter vanished. Hank, who had been put in charge of the tour, let out a sudden yelp as his pants suddenly flew down, revealing a pair of blue boxers. The crowd roared, some kids doubling over, clutching their sides as they laughed. Logan growled. So did Hank, skin flickering blue for a dangerous moment before reverting.

Tesla wasn't laughing. She was frowning. Extending her hand, she turned, eyes locking onto the black of Peter's Pink Floyd shirt. The silver haired teen was standing towards the back of the group as if he'd never moved, arms crossed, a smug grin plastered on his lips. He caught her staring just as she looked up into his dark eyes, his mouth falling open slightly, silver eyebrows rocketing upwards. For once, Pietro Maximoff _wasn't_ quick enough. The electricity that shot from her fingertips was barely visible. The lightest of blues, it whizzed like needles, rushing noiselessly through the air before they found their mark: Peter's chest. The kid was knocked backwards from the force of the small sparks of electricity, landing with a thud and a huff on his back. The laughter crescendoed. Peter didn't seem to notice. Shaking his head so fast it was a mere blur, he looked up quickly, eyes finding Tesla- or perhaps they'd never left her-, mouth still gaping wide. She glared at him, rolling her eyes, which prompted a brilliantly goofy grin to spread itself like the rising sun across Peter's lips, causing Logan to snort. He'd never thought he'd see the day when Pietro Maximoff was spellbound by a girl, and yet there she was, with a face like a spring dawn and hair so black it looked blue. And the kid was captivated.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

The basement where Peter lived was just as he remembered it. The pong machine sat silent in the corner, surrounded by dozens of boxes of stolen ding dongs and numerous other worthless artifacts the little kleptomaniac had no doubt easily lifted. Peter himself was darting back and forth from one end of the ping pong table to the other, and Logan was sure that if the kid had been moving slow enough for him to catch a glimpse of, he would not have even spared the older mutant with so much as half a glance.

"I was wondering when you'd find your way down here man," Peter was suddenly reclining on the large sofa that rested near the foot of the stairs, silvery eyebrows quirked upwards at Logan as he brought one of the pastries he'd nabbed on his way to the couch up to his lips. "It took you forever," he groaned through a mouthful of food.

Logan sighed, fingers finding their way to his temple. This wasn't going to be easy. Why had he volunteered to do this again? Yet even as the thought crossed his mind, amplified a thousand times over, he knew the answer. The Professor was out of the question, for obvious reasons. And after the many pranks (_yes_, there was more than one) that had been pulled on Hank while Peter had visited at the School, he had been the indisputable choice. Calling the kid over to the School to explain the situation had been considered, but ultimately decided against. If this operation was to be successful, they needed to act as quickly as possible. And who knew how long Peter would take to show up (maybe after robbing a view convenience stores)... Besides, according to Charles, he had a way with words... and kids, as the Professor had told a dumbfounded Logan before clapping him on the arm and smiling at him in that way that would make anyone more than a little hesitant to refuse. But still...

"Pietro-"

"_Peter_." The kid cut in annoyedly, frowning as he took in Logan's expression. In a blink he was up, eyes slightly wider than usual as he stared at the man before him. "Is something wrong?"

Logan swallowed. "You could say that."

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

According to Charles, Tesla had vanished just over a week ago, right before the start of the new term- the School's grand re-opening. Her mother had been frantic, calling the Professor just hours after her daughter's disappearance. It had taken Charles nearly five days in Cerebro to find her, and when he'd finally resurfaced with her whereabouts, the look in his eyes haunted Logan as much then as it did now.

"They have her."

"Who?" Hank asked quickly. Already he was pacing, nervous.

Charles' lips moved, though no sound came out.

"_Who_?" Hank's voice was higher this time. "Charles wh-"

"Trask."

The silence was bone deep, shattered only when Logan spoke up.

"But I thought they were shut down."

Charles swallowed. "Evidently not."

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

"Dude? _Duuude_? Wake up man."

Logan blinked. Peter still stood before him, bouncing rapidly on the balls of his feet, his fingers a blur as he drummed them along his leg.

"You're gonna want to sit down, kid." Logan said gruffly, gesturing to the couch. Instead, Peter zipped to the pong machine.

"So what's up? How's the Professor? _Aaand_ Beastie?"

Logan could hear the snicker in the kid's words. His knuckles tightened into fists before he knew what was happening, the veins in his arms standing out. His temple throbbed. This was the problem with Peter. His attention span was just as fast as his feet, and half as nimble it seemed.

"Why are you here anyways? Who died?" Peter chuckled at his own joke, the pong ball dinging back and forth faster and faster. Logan grunted. He didn't have time to make casual banter with an eighteen year old. Not now.

"It's Tesla Anneal."

"Anneal...?" Peter muttered, evidently confused.

"Glitch."

Even after all his time around the little shit, Logan had to admit he'd never seen Peter move so fast. Whipping around, the kid was nothing but silver and wind as he turned to face Logan on his stool. Behind him, the pong ball flashed offscreen, the machine dinging as the game ended. In the back of his mind, the elder of the two mutants couldn't help but notice how the edges of Peter's frame seemed to blur, and it was with a jolt that he realized the kid was vibrating in his sudden onslaught of anxiousness.

"Tes," Peter breathed. "What happened?" He asked, the words spilling from his lips so low and quick that Logan could barely understand him.

Taking hold of the kid's shoulders gently, Logan guided him back onto his stool before turning around, hands going to his hips as he began to pace.

"When's the last time you talked to her?"

"Two weeks ago. She was going on a trip to some lake with her family. Said she would see me at the School when the term began." Peter's eyes lowered, his brows drawing together into such a pained expression of worry that for a moment Logan was at a loss for words. This was going to be harder than he'd expected.

From what he had garnered- with the help of Charles, who would often check in on the soon-to-be-students using Cerebro (Hank had muttered something about the Professor not wanting to lose anyone else, when he had asked why)- Logan was well aware of the relationship that had grown between the two young mutants. According to the Professor, ever since their first meeting in May, the two had been inseparable. Peter had even come up with Tesla's nickname, though Logan secretly thought that '_Glitch_' was slightly underrated for someone with so much power. Literally. Granted, according to Charles, much of it was still untapped...

"What's wrong? Is she okay? Has something happened? Where is-"

Logan held up a hand, effectively silencing Peter and his mile a minute barrage of questions. "Just- just listen, okay Peter?"  
The younger mutant swallowed visibly, his right leg beginning to jig, faster and faster. Every inch of him was tense, a rubber band stretched taut, just waiting to be snapped.

"What's happened to my girlfriend?" He murmured quietly.

"Do you remember the events that occurred two years ago, at the White House?"

Peter nodded, or at least Logan thought he had. The motion could have been a trick of the light it was so brief. Nevertheless, he pressed on, the words sticking like molten lead to the back of his throat- words he wished he never had to utter clogging his mouth and weighting his tongue. Words that would only bring pain and hurt and sadness.

"The sentinels- the machines that went haywire- they were designed by a corporation known as Trask Industries." Logan paused for a moment. "Now... this same company was also exposed for their experimentation."

"Experimentation? Experimentation on what?" Peter's voice wavered. The kid knew the answer- they both did. It hung in the air before them, unspoken, a penumbra of toxic shade.

Logan shook his head, fingers coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Mutants. It was revealed that Trask had been capturing them, experimenting on them, eventually... killing them... under the guise of innocuous research."

When Peter flinched, the movement laden with shock, it was slow enough, pronounced enough, for Logan to notice.

"They were shut down." The silver haired mutant stated flatly.

"They were."  
"But?"

Logan sighed, crossing his arms and moving to turn around. "It seems that that was a front thrown up to fool us. And it worked. I don't think the government is even aware of what's going on, or so Cha- the Professor believes." Logan blinked. Peter had gone very pale, his lips parted slightly as a hushed gasp and exhale ghosted between them. His eyes were wide and unfocused, but swirling in their epicenters was an emotion Logan recognized far quicker than any other. And to say that he was surprised to see true, unbridled fear swirling in the dark pools of Peter Maximoff's dark eyes was likely the largest understatement of his long, long life.

"When?" Peter asked quietly.

Logan frowned. "I beg your pardon, kid. When what?" He'd forgotten how quickly Peter's mind worked. Always twenty steps ahead of anyone.

"_When_ did they take her?!" Peter thundered.

Logan opened his mouth, but before he could so much as utter a syllable, the kid was gone.

Logan whirled around, just barely catching a trail of silver as it brushed past him and up the stairs. A blink, and it was back. Peter's hair was fanned out behind him as he stopped abruptly, a small grey backpack in his left hand. Logan was barely able to spot a pair of what looked like black boxers and a pant leg within before the kid was moving again, flitting about the room and shoving things inside the bag violently.

"Slow d- Peter slow down-"

Suddenly he was up in the air, Peter having knocked him high as he'd run past. Landing with a thud on his side, Logan glared upwards as the kid thrust an entire box of ding dongs into his backpack. Again, he found himself struggling to restrain the bony claws that were just itching to pop from his knuckles.

"What are you doing?"  
"Packing," Peter's voice was by his ear. The next instant, the kid was by the sofa, throwing on his trademark silver jacket. Picking himself up, Logan wasted no time in lunging forward, grabbing Peter's arm as quickly as he could. The teen looked down at his hand before his gaze shot upward.

"Let me go."

"Do you plan on infiltrating Trask by yourself?"  
"If I have to," He bit back fiercely, his words snarled.

"You don't even know where it is."

Peter's eyes flashed, and for a moment Logan feared he would smack his hand away and disappear. Instead, the silver haired teen wrenched his arm free, turning to shoulder his pack.

"I have to do something." The words were tinged with anger and laced with fear.

"No, no you don't Peter. Not now. Not yet. Just calm down and let me finish-"

"_Howcanyousaythat_?" In his rage, Peter's words began to blend together, so rapid that they were nearly indistinguishable. "_Forallyouknowshecouldbebeingtortured_. _Shecouldbedead_!" He was vibrating so violently Logan could barely make out the words on his shirt. He had to calm the kid down, and quickly.

"She's alive."

"How d'you-"

"Because Charles touched her mind. Using Cerebro-"

"_And? _What did he find? Where are they holding her? Is she alright?"

Logan sighed. _In through the nose, out through the mouth._ _Remember Hank's tips_. _Breath, breath... _"She's being held in a facility not far from hear. In Virginia." _Right under the government's nose_.

"But is she hurt?" Peter licked his lips. "Is she okay?" The kid's pleading tone caused Logan to flinch softly, Peter's words nothing more than a hushed whisper.

It unnerved Logan how uncharacteristically sentimental the kid was being. But, he supposed, love could turn even the hardest man, so why not a teenaged mutant with an uncanny ability to steal anything under the sun? The question was, should he tell him? The truth was not pretty- Trask never was one for amiableness. Charles had instructed him to not reveal to Peter the full extent of Tesla's injuries- how she'd been experimented on and tortured for nearly a week, and by the wide-eyed horror that haunted the Professor's gaze, Logan knew that whatever the other mutant had seen, it was bad- until they had returned to the mansion that afternoon. Clearing his throat, he shifted uncomfortably.

"Let's go," he said gruffly.

The meaning was clear enough.

Peter's fingers were trembling, the straps of his backpack quivering as the implication of Logan's ambiguous words sunk in. His face was drawn, melded into a mask of both anger and fear. Yet Logan couldn't help but admire the determination in the kid's tone when he asked, "When do we leave for her?"

"Tonight."

Peter was gone, leaving Logan standing alone in the basement with nothing for company save the metallic clang of the pong machine. Turning to glare at the arcade machine, Logan frowned, eyes hovering over flashing words that lit the tiny screen brightly in a bloody hue of red. Turning on his heel, he followed Peter up the stares, the obnoxiously glowing crimson letters branded into the backs of his eyelids.

_Game over_.


	2. Us and Them

_A continuation from the previous chapter. Enjoy!_

_[[(Prompts: Pietro being a good boyfriend & Pietro confessing his love to you)]]_

* * *

**2. Us and Them [[Pink Floyd]]**

A week after he'd first caught sight of her, Peter spoke to her. Or rather, he _tried_ to. She had been waiting outside of the Professor's office when he'd rounded the corner, thirty five minutes ahead of his scheduled meeting with the odd telepath. According to Hank, every student had to go through an 'evaluation' of sorts, though this news did nothing to hamper Peter's strained attempt to walk as slow as he possibly could towards the large oak doors of the office. Tesla had shot him a small frown, which had prompted an instantaneous grin to split Peter's lips wide. He smirked, leaning against the wall, crossed his arms and opened his mouth. And that's as far as he got. A thousand and one thoughts hummed within the complexity that was his mind, one hundred greetings, three hundred snarky remarks to make, and even five dozen or so paradoxical compliments ranging from how stunning her eyes looked with the sun shining across them through the window pane to how no one in the history of his existence had managed to prank him _half_ as well as she had the week before, and did she happen to like hohos and ping pong? And the thoughts went whizzing and zipping, flying with unimaginable speed around and around his head as Peter gaped at her, eyes widening larger than his mouth was open. A thousand and one thoughts hummed within his incredibly nimble mind, and yet Pietro Maximoff could not think of a single word to utter to the peculiar girl who stood before him.

Out of the darkness, a single thought began to resonate, amplifying in girth and pitch until, without even meaning to, Peter blurted, "What the _fuck_?" Since when did he find it so unusually difficult to speak to a girl? Irritated, he frowned deeply, his crossed arms tightening around his chest.

"Excuse me?" Tesla's voice was edged with a wary hardness that made him flinch. The question itself had been one of confusion, and it was with a jolt that Peter realized he'd, once again, spoken too fast for her to understand._ I really need to work on that... _At least it had been to his advantage this time. Swallowing, the silver haired mutant seized his chance of atonement.

"Uh... I said you really suck." Peter winced; he'd never felt so frozen before, like his tongue was fused to the roof of his mouth and his brain was halfway stir-fried. _Nice one Peter. This is why you steal things instead of talk to girls. _

Tesla threw back her head and laughed, the sound vibrantly young and full of life. Peter's eyebrows rocketed to the ceiling, his arms unfolding as he was momentarily caught off guard. Forcing himself to bring his dark eyes up to meet Tesla's grin, he smiled nervously.

"So you're the fast one who likes to prank people."

"And you're the giant walking battery."

Tesla giggled. "_Ooh_, very original. Really, I haven't heard that one at all before."

Peter grinned, hoping she wouldn't take too much notice of his dimples. _God_ he hated them. Instead, Tesla quirked a brow.

"So I've been dying to know..."

"Yes, I'm single, lucky you right?"

The girl feigned shock. "I would have never guessed. I bet you just whisk the girls right off their feet, literally-"

Peter snorted.

"-And that _amazing_ hair. Which brings me back to my original question... How much do you actually spend to keep it that way?"

"What way?" Peter asked, confusedly reaching up to grab at a lock of silver.

"Well you know, the color. It can't actually be..."

Zipping to Tesla's side, Peter couldn't help the smirk that had slipped its way onto his lips. "It is. Wanna touch?"

Reaching out a hesitant hand, Tesla jumped back, startled, when Peter flitted away, appearing on her other side.

"Too bad, too slow. And when I say slow I mean, like, _really_ slow. I think you just broke the record for it actually." He snickered, watching as the girl bit her lip. A thrill rocketed from the soles of his feet up to the tips of his ears at the sight.

"I can't believe I just fell for that," she moaned.

"It's okay, everyone does," Peter said, rolling his eyes.

"Hmm, I can imagine. It must get old."

Peter shrugged, trying not to notice the way she was looking at him, her blue eyes, profoundly deep, seemed to shine with a kindness she liked to keep masked. They were _abysmal_, he decided, a word his mother liked to use far too often. "Not really... So why'd you think my hair was dyed?"

"Besides the fact that literally no one has that hair color?" Tesla rolled her eyes. "Because your fast. And with silver hair, you could easily call yourself something rad, like Quicksilver."

Peter frowned. "You think I dye my hair because of a nickname?"

"The Professor has one," Tesla shrugged, "And so does Hank- haven't you ever heard Wolverine call him Beast?"

"Wolveri-"  
"Logan." Tesla said flatly, her eyes flipping gracefully upwards then down once more. Behind them, the door to the Professor's office opened, a small boy with orangey-red hair slipping out. With a smile and a punch to the shoulder Tesla turned away.

"I'll see you around Quicksilver."

Rubbing his arm mindlessly, Peter's eyes watched her go. "Yeah... _yeah_."

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

It took Hank, Logan, and Charles- or the _Professor_, as he'd so pleasantly requested to be called- to convince Peter that running off at supersonic speed to the mysterious building where Trask Industries was holding Tes was, as Hank had so delicately put it, "a suicide mission that would end in two deaths. Yours, and hers."

That had shut him up real quick, figuratively speaking. He still had hundreds of questions, all of which were not deterred when Charles had put two fingers to his temple with a sigh and told him to _calm himself_.

_'You must calm your mind,'_ the Professor's voice seemed to echo back and forth across the innermost workings of his skull, making Peter more than a little uneasy. '_We have a plan in place Peter, but we need your utmost cooperation in the meantime. It is imperative to our success.'_

"I know this is hard," the Professor continued, retracting himself from Peter's thoughts and speaking aloud. The silver-haired mutant let loose an audible sigh of relief that did not go unnoticed. Clearing his throat, Charles continued. "I know this is hard, but you must trust us. And, above anything else, you must listen, as precisely as you possibly can."

"Tesla's life depends on it." Hank interjected.

Peter swallowed, his hands, always moving, tightening into fists at his sides.

Logan returned then, the door banging open with a pop that had Hank flinching.

"The car-"

Peter, who'd been pacing back and forth at a rate that barely allowed the other's to see the silver of his hair and jacket, halted abruptly, sending a gentle wind that fluttered past Charles' chin-length hair to the curtains beyond.

"Is it time? Are we ready? I _can't_stand_waitinghereanymore_. I_can't_-"

A hand was clapped firmly onto his shoulder, Logan peering down at him with his ever-guarded gaze.

"It's time."

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

A month after they first spoke, fate would find them kissing in the backseat of Peter's mother's old Ford Galaxie. Piano Man, Tesla's favorite song, was blaring obnoxiously from the speakers as Peter's tongue ghosted the crest of Tes's lips, his breath hitching into a hushed gasp as she kissed his neck, his lips, nipping at his ear. Finger's swirling in her long hair, Peter's constraint on his speed slipped suddenly, and with a gasp Tesla found hands that had previously been ensnared in her ebony locks dancing delicately from her breasts to her hips and beyond, far faster than her's could move over Peter's bare chest.

"Pete-Peter," she managed, her words coming in breathy gasps. Instantly, Peter's motions slowed, a husky chuckle escaping his lips.

"Sorry,"

"S'okay."

Eyes connected, blue fusing with black, merging faster than the speed of sound, and suddenly he was kissing her and she was arching up into his touch, the fabric of her shirt tugging roughly up and over her shoulders and head as Peter helped her out of it. A mouth found her left breast, an agile tongue licking and swirling so suddenly that a spark of electricity ricocheted from fingertips that clutched desperately to Peter's muscled back, causing him to grunt, though he did not slow in his ministrations.

"A_ah_," Tes breathed. Peter chuckled, the vibrations scattering across her chest, drawing a low moan from her lips. Her hands flitted downwards, and Tesla did not miss the harsh intake of breath as her fingers slipped over the bulge of his pants. Peter's lips had returned to Tes', kissing her hungrily, so entranced by the girl beneath him that for all he knew the radio had died out a long time ago and they were kissing in the melody of faint breath and lips against lips. The zipper of his pants was down suddenly, leaving Peter wandering if it was, in fact, Tesla that had super speed, and she was touching him there, each caress softer and yet more pronounced than the last, lingering, and he was moaning, the threadbare material of his boxers spiking his frustration, his want- there was a shiver, a ripple in time, fleeting, and he'd slipped up again, he'd sped up, suddenly poised at her entrance, waiting- but Tes was nibbling his lower lip and her hand was tight around him and he began to position himself and- and-

"Peter," Tes's voice was hoarse, her lips a brilliant red and her eyes rivaling the moon in their luminosity as they stared roundly up at him, saucer-like and frightened and-

"What's wrong?" He asked, alarm ripping through him like a spark of lightning. Tesla shook her head, eyes not meeting his, teeth worrying at her lower lip as tears welled in the corners of her aquamarine gaze. Wasting no time, Peter dressed, pulling up his boxers and zipping his pants before Tes could blink, before gently taking her face in his hands.

"Tes? Tes, what's the matter?" Gently, far more gentle than Peter had ever been in his life, he thumbed away a tear as it escaped, raining down delicately from a blue eye squeezed tightly shut. Leaning forward, Peter kissed Tes just above her ear. "You know you can tell me... You can tell me anything Tes." He murmured.

A moment passed, a heartbeat for some, twenty two for Peter, who counted each one as he waited, tenser than that day a year before when he'd gotten his first glimpse of the Pentagon through the smudged, dirty window of a rental car.

And then- "I'm not... I'm not ready." She whispered, the words so faint he had to strain to catch them as they tumbled brokenly from her lips. Tes opened her eyes, blinking past the film of mortified tears. "I'm not ready for- for _that_. Because- _Because_-"

Something inside his chest crumbled, crashing brokenly, plummeting to the lowest part of his abdomen where it settled like an iron weight. Peter swallowed. Reaching upwards, he took Tes' chin gently in between his fingertips, turning her so that her face was upturned towards his. Two shallow, twin rivers of gleaming tears highlighted moonbeam trails across the paths of her high cheekbones, and as delicately (and slowly, ever so slowly) as he could, Peter drew his fingers across them, wiping the sparkling dew into oblivion. Tes' brows knit, her lower lip trembling as she peered meekly up at the silver haired mutant with eyes as wide and deep as the ocean.

"Don't," Peter's voice shook when he spoke, the emotion too strong, too overpowering for him to fully contain. Licking his lips, he continued. "don't you ever think that you have to explain something like that to me." Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss, as gentle as it was chaste, to the swollen puffs of skin under each of her eyes. "Not to anybody." Peter shook his head, his voice soft. "It's okay Tes, I understand. It's okay."

Tesla closed her eyes as Peter leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, opening them only when the plucking of a guitar and the dulcet voice of Jim Croce floated from the radio. Beside her Peter turned his head, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek where a shining droplet had been falling before resting his head against her own. Slowly, their eyes lulled shut.

_"...If I could make days last forever_

_If words could make wishes come true_

_I'd save every day like a treasure and then_

_Again, I would spend them with you..."_

"Peter?"

"...hm?"

"Thank you."

Peter smiled.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

Hank grounded the plane on a small, private landing stripe that Peter was pretty certain could get them arrested, if anything. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have given two shits about such a conclusion, but _now_... His hands were white as he clutched the armrests of his seat. The plan had been explained to him in as great a detail as absolutely possible (Charles had even slipped into his mind amidst all the "whirring and thrumming", as he put it, to display the mental layout of the warehouse he'd amassed through Tes and several scientists whilst in Cerebro), though it had been hard enough sitting still the entire time, but coupled with the knowledge that at any point, Tes could- she could be-

Even lost waist high within his own thoughts, concaved deep within himself like a snake avoiding the sunlight, Peter's perception was acute enough to notice the looks Charles and Logan were shooting back and forth at one another as the plane touched down with a jolt. Pressing his lips together firmly in a pencil-thin line, the Professor sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment before wheeling his chair over to where the young mutant sat. Peter didn't even so much as turn to acknowledge his presence, resigning himself to leaning mutely against the window as his blurred fingers drummed an inaudible beat against the armrest.

"Peter, might I have a word."

Silver hair and dark eyes flashed, glaring his answer. _Be my guest, Charles_.

Charles coughed. "In private."

"That important huh?" Peter grunted, shoving himself upwards. "It couldn't wait?"

"No, I'm afraid not," It almost looked as if the man were wincing as his next words spilled from his lips. "You're going to want to hear this before you go in there."

Sighing, Peter headed to the back of the plane, arriving in a mere millisecond, tapping his foot impatiently as he awaited for the Professor, who's wheelchair was taking a crippling amount of time to fight it's way back. Wheeling to a stop beside the younger mutant, Charles' hands went from the wheels of his chair to his lap.

"Sit down Peter."

Frowning, Peter flopped himself into the nearest seat, his fingers going to the armrests immediately, knuckles white and strained. He didn't know how much longer he could stand just sitting around. What did the Professor have to say now that was so important that it couldn't wait until _after_ Tes was safe. That is, if she was-

Peter winced, a shudder rippling through him at the thought. Glancing over at Charles, he raised a brow impatiently, the latter man shifting so that he could glance behind him.

Out of earshot, now would be the most opportune moment to tell Peter. It would be hard, Charles knew, especially since the information was only meant to brace the boy for the state, both mental and physical, he would surely find Tesla in. Clearing his throat, it was for the fiftieth time that hour that the Professor noticed how unnervingly quiet Peter had become.

"I understand that you have fully memorized the plan-"

"Yep, which is why I don't quite understand why we aren't putting it into action. Can't this wait?"

Charles held up a hand. "What I have to tell you is information regarding Tesla's... state of being."

Peter sat up, his spine ramrod straight, the blood in his veins becoming glacial as it froze. "What are you talking about. What have they done to her? Tell me."

"I will, or rather, I shall show you." Charles held up two of his fingers, placing them delicately against the side of his temple. "If you will allow it." The words had barely left his mouth when Peter spoke.

"Do it."

The Professor nodded. "Before I show you, Peter, I want you to remember two things." Charles drew in a breath, rolling his shoulders. "One, that everything you are about to see has come to pass, and that you must be prepared for both what you will find within this facility, as well as Tesla's state of wellbeing, whatever it may be. Two." Here Charles leaned forward an inch, his electric cobalt eyes catching Peter's dark ones in a stern gaze. "No matter what you are about to see, you _must_ remain calm. Flying into a fury will no further help Tesla than inaction will. Keep your head. Do you hear me Peter? Do not let your rage take over. I am showing you this for a reason. Tesla is going to need all the help she can get to recover, and that includes you being aware of what she's gone through, so that you may help her cope." Charles' voice dropped an octave. "She loves you Peter." He murmured gruffly. "Don't forget that."

Peter gulped, eyes hard as he nodded. His fingers were trembling. Steeling himself, he gripped the armrests until his palms and fingers hurt, his left jigging faster and faster as he closed his eyes. Charles pressed the fingers to his temple and let out a shaky sigh.

"Are you ready?"

"Do it." Peter growled.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

Six weeks after he had kissed her tears away to the lulling of what would soon become their song, Peter had told her that he loved her. It hadn't been like some would imagine: just the two of them all alone on some roof, cuddled in a blanket as the stars floated on high like orbs alighting the heavens. They'd been at a concert, Pink Floyd to be specific, amidst sweaty bodies and girls screaming until their lungs shriveled and ran dry. The concert was being held just inside of D.C.; Tesla had surprised him with the tickets, an early birthday gift that Peter had decided was just about the best thing anyone had ever gotten him. And that included the ping pong table his mother had saved up for (no he hadn't _stolen_ it).

And so as the soothing melody of _'Us and Them'_ settled like a blanket over the stadium, Peter took Tesla's hands in his own, hugging her body to his as the crowd rocked in the slow lull of the song. The upsurge of the chorus had Tes leaning her head into the crook of his neck, smiling softly up at him as Peter tipped forward and whispered,

"I love you."

And her eyes had closed, that small smile still gracing her pretty little mouth as she murmured into his ear, "I love you too."

Peter had leaned down, and she had craned upwards, and when their lips met there were no longer thousands of fans swaying around the two. Only them. Lost in their little world of planetary rapture.

Two weeks later, Tesla Anneal went missing.


	3. Eyes on Fire

_A continuation from the previous chapters. Enjoy!_

_[[(Prompt: Pietro helping you escape Trask Industries after being experimented on)]]_

* * *

**3. Eyes on Fire [[Blue Foundation]]**

Peter found her on the fifth floor. With trembling hands and hitched breath he eyed the machines they'd hooked her up to, trying and failing simultaneously to block out the horrendous beeping and buzzing that bit into his eardrums and made them bubble and bleed. She was laying on her back, pressed tight to the metal bed by nothing more than a few velcro straps. It was the battery capacitors that had Peter faltering. The size of a toy car, they were held firmly in place along each of her arms and legs by thick needles that protruded ghastly spires from Tes' ashen skin. Licking his lips, Peter hovered closer, blurred fingers twitching towards the tiny capacitors that, according to the Professor, were the key behind Tes' immobility.

'_Remember,_ Charles' voice echoed eerily within his mind (he would never get used to it), _the capacitors are what is keeping her motionless. The electrical state of her body is at constant war with them. Please recall exactly how I showed you to do this, Peter. You must be very careful extracting them, and make sure to do it while Tesla is still unconscious.'_

Peter gritted his teeth. '_And why is that?'_

Even from the safety of the rental car (that of which Hank had managed to hide close enough within the warehouse's range for the young scientist to mess with the building's security system) Peter could _feel_ the Professor wince at his question.

'_Because the capacitors were installed for a single purpose. The voltage on all four rivals dangerously with Tesla's own electrical maximum capacity. Any more and she would die. But the energy being pumped through each one of those is used merely for its stratagem of pain. With those capacitors in place, Tesla most likely can't even twitch her finger without-'_

Peter had drowned Charles out. He tended to do that when he was concentrating, and besides, whatever scientist's mind the telepath had read earlier, it had provided far too much information for his liking. Biting his lip so hard he tasted the metallic salt of blood, Peter extracted the final capacitor as slowly as he could possibly manage. The sight of the needles coated in red caused the mutant to shudder involuntarily, unable to tear his gaze from inches upon inches of pointed, blood covered metal whose volts were enough to give him four heart attacks, no doubt.

Next, the machines. Peter paused to take a deep breath, willing away the rage that simmered, boiling red hot beneath the frail lid he could barely keep tamped down over it. This wouldn't be as tricky. He could do this quick. Through Charles, Peter had seen glimpses of another's mind, and despite how confusingly trippy the whole experience had been, he had to admit that when learning new information, no other method could prove to be better. In seconds he had them all shut down, wires cut and extracted and Tesla lying free upon the hard, unforgiving metal surface. Peter took a wary step forward. In the dark light of the room, he could barely see the pale skin of her body. She seemed smaller, frailer, but perhaps that was just because of the paper gown they'd put her in.

His right arm fit under her knees a little too loosely, and as he slipped his left around her shoulders Peter lifted Tes as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. Cradling her tiny frame to his own, he blanched at the myriad of black, green and purple bruises on Tesla's face. Several cuts danced about her cheeks, though none were as gruesome as the slice that ran through her left brow, nor the collection of poorly sewn up stitches that had Peter's skin crawling as if a thousand beetles were skittering up and down his bones. Her lip was split, her right eye so black and blue it looked as if it had been swelled shut for days. Tes' head lolled, her brows furrowed so violently that Peter suspected she was lost in a nightmare, undoubtedly reliving her torture- a waking dream, endless. She couldn't escape it, not even in her sleep. Something wet pattered lightly onto Tesla's bruised cheekbone, and blinking, Peter stifled a sob. Almost instantly, as though he sensed Peter's agitatedly fierce tumult of emotions, Charles was back in his head.

'_Peter, you must overcome your anger. I know your rage, I understand it believe me. But in order for Tesla to survive, in order for both of you to return to safety you must-'_

_ 'How _dare_ they.'_

_ 'Peter, Peter _please_ heed my words-'_

"_Peter_..."

That was not the Professor's voice. That was not in his head. Peter's arms tightened around Tes, his eyes flying to hers so fast he scarcely had enough time to prepare himself for

the ethereal ultramarine of her gaze. Even after weeks of torture, they shone just as bright as ever. Peter didn't know whether to laugh or cry, his relief at seeing Tes awake mixing with his fear, his anger, his hate.

"Hey Tes," he whispered. And then, "Hold on, okay?" His voice cracked. "Just hold on."

Looking over his shoulder, Peter held Tesla tightly to his chest, making sure her head was tucked firmly against the crook of his arm and shoulder before, in a heartbeat, they vanished. He'd never run so fast in his life.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

It started with simple things, blood samples, physicals, things that any doctor would perform, things that had Tesla moving from one room to the next, calm, uninjured, unaware of the horrors she would soon face. Peter watched, almost unwillingly beholding the projection the Professor so dolefully contrived within his mind. It was almost like a dream, he thought, watching as one of the white coated scientists drew a small amount of blood from Tes' arm. Only these weren't dreams. They'd happened, and as the memories played on and on, they would only continue to grow worse, into never-ending torment and misery. Into hell.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

By the time they reached the elevator, Tesla had regained enough consciousness to realize who actually held her in his arms. As the doors slid shut behind them and the metallic ding announced their descent, she let loose a shuddering breath that ended in a moan so feeble it had Peter's heart dropping faster than even he dared move.

"Is this real?" She breathed, trembling fingers reaching up to gently press delicate tips to Peter's cheek. "Are you real?"

He was frozen, unable to respond. Red, angry stitches lined her arms, arms that he'd never seen so white and black and blue.

"It's real," he choked out, biting his lip to keep it from quivering. "I'm here, I've got you Tesla. I've got you."

Tes smiled before a spasm of weak coughs wracked her body. She cried out then, a whimper escaping her lips as she attempted to curl in on herself in his arms.

"Tes? _Tes?_ Tes _breathe_!"

Tes took a shuddering gasp, tears leaking from her eyes. Everything hurt, every inch of her body, every particle of her mind. He could sense it. He knew. And Peter hated it, with every fiber of his being, with every thread that made up humanity and the galaxies beyond. He _hated_ it.

The elevator dinged. Three floors to go.

"Peter," Tesla breathed, her voice urgent despite how desperately feeble she was. Slim fingers clutched uselessly at the metallic of his jacket. "You... have t- to get... out of here. You shouldn't of- can't be here- get out..."

Peter's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"They want you too."

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

'_What do you mean they want me?'_ Peter could hear his alarm, how it echoed in the black swath of space that connected the Professor's mind to his own. Eyes still closed, he sat back, waiting for the answering thoughts to slip into his head. Charles' voice was becoming more of a familiar presence there, he'd noticed, though he despised the feeling all the same.

'_From what I've gathered, Trask Industries had been keeping tabs on several mutants before Tesla's abduction, you being one of them. It was most likely easy for them to gather information, since the pair of you spent so much time together.'_

Peter frowned. He didn't particularly welcome the knowledge that Charles was so fully aware of his and Tesla's relationship. Who knew what the older man had seen through the minds of Trask's spies. The thought made his skin crawl. '_How can you be sure? Was it Trask? How long did they-'_

_ 'I'd rather show you, Peter.'_ Charles' voice cut across his blur of questions, silencing him. For some odd reason, Peter suddenly had the impression of a blanket, large and warm and soft, being pressed down upon his consciousness. Sighing, he nodded.

'_Do it then.'_

Peter wished he'd never thought those words. Tesla was sitting in a chair, all alone in a dark room. The man questioning her didn't have a face, the darkness swathed around him keeping all but his hands and torso obscured in an inky black. He was yelling at her, screaming at her, causing tears to leak from her eyes as he threatened.

"We'll find that lover of yours if you don't cooperate, girl. If this is the kind of insurgent behavior you are going to continue to exemplify, than I can only promise you that it will amount to all the more pain for him."

Tes was shaking, wrists writhing in their restrains upon the armrests of her chair.

"Fuck off." She spit.

The slap rebounded harshly off the invisible walls of the darkened room, intertwining luridly with Tesla's cry of pain.

"What we want is simple. A few small tests, a few more samples- things that you could easily cooperate with. There does not have to be any animosity between us, don't you see? But no matter, there is a way to handle _every_ situation."

Tes sniffled, her face hidden behind a curtain of dark, unkept hair. Suddenly, the man was leaning across the table that separated them with gnarled hands, his hot, stinking breath rushing like death over her face.

"We'll find him, capture him, and torture him until he can barely remember his own name. And we'll make you watch. In fact, you and your _lovely_ mutation can even be as privileged as to have a hand in his suffering."

Tesla's breath was coming fast and leaving faster, her face ashine with tears of fright and panic. Pale fingers clutched tightly to the ends of the chair's arms, chipped nails working their way slowly into the old wood. Everything was wood- anything that could conduct a charge was kept far out of range. Until they could learn to control her, subdue her powers, Tes was a danger. Blue eyes floated upwards, meeting the dark iris' glaring across from her, so full of loathing and repulsion. With a quirk of her lips that took far too much effort, Tes sneered.

"You think you could catch _him_?"

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

The alarms had finally sounded. Tes had screamed as the sirens had begun to wail, flashing red and blue and purple violently along the dingy walls and rusted hand-holds that lined them. Clutching the trembling body tightly to his own, Peter whirled around, silver hair floating about him as he turned, brown eyes widening as the elevator shuddered abruptly before groaning to a slow halt. His gaze flicked to the numbers above the twin doors. Stuck. Between the second and first floor.

'_Professor?'_

_ 'I know, Hank just told me what happened.'_

_ 'What _did_ happened, exactly? One second we were fine and the next-'_

_ 'Whoever is manning the security systems in the building was smart enough to break through Hank's manipulation. You have to get out of there Peter, as fast as you can. We no longer hold the element of surprise.'_

Peter groaned aloud in irritation, cursing as he shifted Tesla's weight. '_Speed can only get me so far, Professor. We're stuck halfway between the first and second floor, and the doors are made of solid metal. So-'_

Charles was thinking quickly, Peter felt the rapid ebb and flow of thoughts and ideas spinning wildly from the professor's mind, so much so that he nearly staggered from the dizziness of it all.

'_Professor?'_

_ 'You're not going to like this, Peter. But I'm afraid it's the only way.'_

_ 'What's that supposed to mean? Like what?I don't understand- I'm not going to like what?'_

_ 'Have Tesla place her hand on the doors.'_

Charles could not see the convulsion of utter disbelief and fury that exploded like a firecracker on Peter's face, but he felt the emotions behind the action all the same.

'_How could you even _think_ of asking such a fucking thing of her, you insane piece of shit crackpot profes-'_

_ 'It's the only way Peter! We cannot do anything from the rental car, you two are alone in there and we must get you out!'_

_ 'It will _kill_ her!'_

_ 'No it won't! No it won't. I've been monitoring her consciousness- she's weak, yes, but she's also very strong. And tough. Incredibly so. She can do this Peter, trust me.'_

Peter turned in a circle on the spot, blowing away a strand of silver hair that had fallen into his eyes as he scanned the cramped elevator.

'_I shall help her, as much as I can.'_ Charles' voice was soothing, and for a moment Peter believed the strange older man, believed that he understood this pain, this heartache of watching the one you loved ebb away before your very eyes. Slipping up alongside the door, Peter held Tes closer, bringing her face nearer to his so that her blurred, unfocused gaze could find his easier.

"Tesla?" He breathed.

"_Pete_..."  
"We need to get these elevator doors open." He whispered, nearly gagging on words that wanted to choke him. "I'm going to get you out of here, I promise, but I need those doors open and-"

Peter faltered, watching as the girl in his arms turned her head slowly, reaching out an arm with a wince and a flinch as pain wracked through her in waves. Placing her palm flat against the cold metal of the doors, just over the slit that marked the separation between them, Tesla sighed, her breath hitching, before nodding her head. Perhaps Peter wasn't the only one Charles was speaking with. Eyes emptying until they were nothing more but pools of vacant light, Tesla cried out.

Like a snake Peter recoiled backwards an inch as the elevator suddenly let out a deafening whine of protest. With a jolt it began to move downwards, inching along until, with a jostling bump that sent Peter back a step and a loud ding, the doors slid open.

Peter let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. A whimper sounded close to his ear.

"Tes? Tes are you okay? _Tes_?!"  
Tes' hand had dropped limply from the door, her head drooping against his arm, eyes rolling shut as she lost consciousness.

_She's fine,_ _she's just fainted from overexertion._ Charles was in his head again, but this time he didn't care. His eyes remained trained on Tesla, heart pounding so hard it was becoming agonizingly painful.

_ Hurry Peter, you don't have much time, even for you._

Lightning had never struck half as fast as Peter ran from the elevator. Cradled protectively in his arms, Tes' eyes fluttered. To her, all of this was but a passing dream, and so she sunk back into the darkness, though not willingly. For as long as she could, she kept her gaze wide, eyes trained on Peter's face as he ran. It was the last thing she saw as her vision began to blur and flicker about the edges, and with a sigh she fainted.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

"Now I'm going to need you to steel yourself before I show you these last memories, Peter."

"And why is that? What's in them?"

Charles found himself taking a long, slow breath. Of all the kids he'd ever encountered, this one seemed to favor talking, and quickly, above any of them. Removing the tips of his fingers from his temple, he folded his hands neatly in his lap, clearing his throat. From the front of the plane, Logan and Hank's thoughts trickled like a lapping stream. Hank, thinking equations and electricity as he fiddled with the same device he'd used within the Pentagon. Wolverine's musings, as he'd mentioned was his nickname, were noticeably darker than the scientists- the murky water in the stream contrasting with the clear. The burly man was lost deep within his own mind, pondering Peter's reaction when he'd gone to tell him the ill-fated news. Like a scratched record, skipping countless times over and over to that exact moment when Peter's eyes had widened with realization, and his mouth had stopped moving and fallen open, as the impact of Logan's words had settled over him in a shroud of fear and confusion.

_Idon'tunderstandissheokaywhatdoestheProfessormeanhe'sgonesilentthisisreallybadIcan'twatchthisIcan'tdothisit'llkillmeiftheyhurtherIsweartoGod-_

Fingers coming up to rub at the space between his brows, Charles closed his eyes. Peter's mind worked nearly as fast as his legs did, and the output always left him with a terrible migraine. Thus far, the boy had suffered the cruel memories in relative silence. But his mind, like Charles', was always working. Opening his eyes, Charles forced himself to hold Peter's gaze. Anguish, misery, fear- Peter's eyes were that of a starved man, half wild with desperation. A flash of steel grey eyes and curling, contorted metal had Charles blinking away memories doused in savage pain, of a first meeting with one who would alter his life forever. He blinked, bringing himself back to the present.

The silver hair that framed Peter's face was nearly as long as Charles', the pinched skin between the kid's brow mirroring his own. His heart constricted. No one should have to feel such pain. Especially not someone so young. Feigning a scratch, Charles quickly wiped at a tear that was fighting valiantly to slip from his eye. No doubt Peter had see it anyways.

"When you find her, you must be careful. She is injured, both physically and mentally, but the physical injuries are paramount for the time being."

Peter nodded.

Charles reached out a hand. "Close your eyes. And remember, whatever you see, you must remain calm. Think of Tes, of saving her. You need your wits about you to do that."

The fear that radiated from Peter was palpable. He nodded. Fingers against his temple, Charles placed a hand against Peter's cheek, cradling the younger mutant's face in his palm. It was the easiest way to subdue the kid, in the event that his rage took over. Charles was experienced. It had happened before, with other mutants.

With an intake of breath and a flash, the memories began to swarm.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

It was disgusting, the emotions of whomever scientist the blurred recollection was stolen from. Glee and interest, void of any remorse. Charles did his best to keep them out, to hold them at bay from Peter, yet particles leaked through all the same, making the scenes of torture playing behind their eyelids all the more macabre. And Peter could only watch, lost in the caverns of memory, unable to do much more than call out helplessly to the figment of remembrance that personated before his eyes.

They wanted to see if she could conduct electricity, so they hooked her up to machines and listened to her scream as they jotted down notes. They were curious of her mutation's power, it's stamina, so they pushed her to her limit and then some, watching with indifferent gazes as she finally lost consciousness. One scientist was interested in what would happen if she was submerged in water surging with electricity, and Peter watched as Tes cried out for help, for them to stop, beneath the tank's surface, bubbles of air streaming from her mouth as she clawed as the covering above her, blockading air. Blockading escape. And as Peter watched Tes, Charles watched Peter, saw the silent tears dripping down the young mutant's cheeks, saw the way his heart began to fracture and his mind writhe in angry, red contortions that only a certain degree of rage could muster. Charles would know, he'd seen it before...

The last memory was the worst, as things of such a nature tended to always be. A hum of disquieting excitement filtered weakly from the ghost of the scientist's consciousness, causing Charles to cringe and Peter's knuckles to curl, spasming into fists. Strapped tightly to an operating table, in the overly bright hue of lights blazing overhead, Tes' arms had been pinned down harshly, palms upturned, knuckles white. It was the final test Trask had planned for her, for the time being, the final injustice before Charles had found out her location. With small, sharp tools they cut into her skin- her arms- intrusively examining bone, muscle and tissue. Meticulously they searched for the source of her abilities, an explanation for how easily the power would float through her veins, ignorant of the agonized sobbing, the blatant suffering of the half conscious girl who's blood, as blue as the electricity she controlled, seeped from the slits in her skin, drizzling onto the white floor as she screamed Peter's name-

Even with the warning- a flare of savage red that sent him reeling from the younger mutant's mind- Charles was helpless to suppress him. Too slow, to incapacitated. And that was why he called out for Logan, Hank- _somebody_- to come, and quickly. Peter was a blur, a flurry of bared teeth and silver as his fist lashed out, connecting with the plane's window that sent a resounding _crack!_ ricocheting off the inner walls of the small plane. To Charles' horror, the glass fissured, fracturing with a crackle and a sliver of displaced glass that resembled a lightning strike a little _too_ accurately. By that time, Logan had made it to his side.

"What's happening?"

"Peter he's- he reacted badly to the memories."

A burst of splintering wood had Logan whipping around, Charles turning as much as he possibly could in his wheelchair to catch a glimpse of the ruined cabinets along the back wall of the cabin, the doors lost from their hinges.

"Well no shit, Professor."

The furniture was demolished, looking as if someone had rained down upon it a thousand punches as hard as they could swing.

"You're going to have to subdue him." Logan growled, eyes trying and failing to track Peter's movement's. "I can't try. Not in this deathtrap." It was like the kid was invisible.

Charles shook his head rapidly. "No. No, I _can't_. I can't just force my way-"

Suddenly, one of the shot glasses within the devastated depository went flying across the plane, narrowly missing the side of Logan's head as the large man ducked, moving quicker than his size let on. With a teeth gritting shatter the cup broke into a million crystal shards. This was getting out of hand. Charles' fingers flew to the side of his temple once more.

_'I'm sorry about this, Peter.' _He projected rapidly, the echo of regret clear, before rushing into the screaming, florescent young mind and seizing hold. Beside him, Logan blinked, his brows knitting at Peter's sudden reappearance. Frozen in place, unable to move, the speedster had his hand drawn back, a mere second away from sending the old chess set Charles' liked to keep on the plane flying into smashed oblivion. The fierce expression that marred the kid's features sent shivers nipping along Charles' arms, and down what little he could feel of his spine. Beside him, Logan shifted, catching the intense look that had corrupted Peter's normally aloof gaze. It was unnerving.

From the front of the plane, Hank shouted. "The device is ready Professor!"

Charles' eyes slipped shut. So it was time.

_'I'm going to remove myself from your mind now, Peter. And when I do, you must find the strength to pull yourself together. Every moment we remain here gives Trask all the more time with Tesla... Hank is ready. It's time.'_

When he regained his mobility, Peter retook his previous seat so quickly Charles hadn't even had time to blink. As Logan went to scout out the small tarmac, Charles chanced a quick glance at the silver haired boy. He'd turned his face away, looking out past the window he had wreaked his fury upon and beyond with red rimmed eyes. Charles wheeled towards the cockpit, his mind lost deep somewhere between Tesla's screams and the way Peter had let the tears roll untouched down his pale cheeks.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

To say they made it out in the nick of time was an understatement. Forced to watch the aching seconds drag by as the outer gates of the facility closed, lethargic and callous, Peter felt the sudden uprising of true panic seize ahold of him. Clutching the unconscious girl securely in his arms, he clenched his teeth, forcing his legs to carry him as fast as they would go, and then faster still. The gates were almost closed, guards swarming around the entrance like flies on raw meat. With a grunt Peter threw himself forward, pushing himself until he was practically flying, his feet barely touching the ground. He was at the brink- he'd never pushed himself like this. The gates were nearly closed. A trickle of sweat slithered down the side of Peter's temple. He needed to make it, he needed to get her out. With a roar of desperate frustration, Peter shoved himself over the edge.

A boom so loud and violent it threw half the guards off their feet sent him accelerating forward at a speed so rapid, so electrically fleeting that before Peter had even realized what had happened, he was well within the woods that lined the perimeter of the warehouse, the rental car not ten feet away. Peter's breath left him in a rush, like he'd been punched in the gut. Tilting forward, he barely managed to catch himself with a bent knee. Charles had told him that the rental car would be staked out three miles into the woods, giving them a wide berth from Trask to avoid detection. Peter blinked, gaze floating to Tes. Her face was blurred. His vision was fading, going grainy as blackness licked at the edges. In the distance, he could hear the Professor's voice, hear Hank yelling for Logan... but the sounds were faint, almost as if he were underwater listening to them. Peter blinked again. He'd never run that fast before. He'd never tried.

The Professor was in front of him then, saying something, but Peter couldn't hear him. There was a ringing in his ears, and with every passing second it grew increasingly louder. The metal wheel of Charles' chair snapped a twig in two as he wheeled to Peter's side, and vaguely the younger mutant felt the soft touch of a hand on the side of his head. Even lost within the recesses of shock and exhaustion, Peter knew: Charles was reading his mind.

"Be careful... with..." Peter's eyes rolled, body swaying dangerously, his words vanishing for a moment before he forced himself to come back. To continue. "...with her... Left leg...'sbroken..." He slumped forward then, his fall stopped only by a hand that caught him firmly by his shoulder as Charles whipped around as best he could.

"Logan! Come help me with him."

The crunching of undergrowth announced the larger man's presence, and as Logan stooped to removed a still unconscious Tes gently from Peter's tight hold, he eyed the silver haired mutant concernedly. Peter's head was lulling, his eyes shut and lips parted slightly as fatigue finally ensnared him in its dark embrace.

"What the hell happened?"

Charles shook his head. "His mind is a blur, it works four times as fast as a regular humans. It's hard for me to process, but from what I picked up on they almost didn't make it coming through the final gate. But Peter, he-" Charles hesitated, the look that flitted across his face uncertain.  
Logan stood, his hold gentle on the girl as he rose easily. "He what?"

"I- well I believe he went supersonic."

"Are you kidding?"

The baying of dogs in the distance caused Charles to flinch. Beside him, Logan growled, the corners of his lips turning down into a sinister snarl that had an uneasiness settling like dead leaves in the bottom of Charles' stomach. Granted he'd known Logan for two whole years now, the man never failed to elicit a a particularly lucid amount of wariness within Charles. Behind him, a car door opened and closed. Low voices murmured back and forth as Logan passed Tes over into Hank's arms. Charles kept his hand firmly against Peter's shoulder, the boy slumping into the contact.

_'I hope you're coming back for Peter,'_

Even within his own mind, Logan's words were tinged with lupine gruffness that had almost become familiar to Charles. _'I was, unless you were planning on carrying him, Professor.'_

_'I think I'll sit this one out, Logan, but thank you for the generous offer.'_

Despite the graveness of their situation, Logan chuckled darkly.

Echoing through the trees came voices, shouting angrily as the dogs howled their outcry. Suddenly, Peter's shoulder slide from beneath his hand. Unconscious, the boy had fallen sideways, no longer leaning against him for support. With a gasp Charles lunged forward as best he could, hand grasping at empty air a moment too late. There was a dull thud as Peter collapsed onto the ground. Charles winced, cursing colorfully beneath his breath.

"Get in the car, Professor, those dogs may not be as fast as the kid, but they have his scent." Logan's long legs were striding past Charles then, over to where Peter lay, his face nearly lost behind a tangled web of silver hair. Stooping, he slipped an arm under the kid's knees, his other arm sliding beneath Peter's shoulders. With a grunt and a huff, Logan stood, and for what seemed like the first time since they'd first met, Charles was struck with how massive the man standing before him really was. If Peter was the same height as Erik (which, Charles had noticed, the kid nearly was), he looked like a child in Logan's arms. Perhaps it was because of the way Logan's muscles seemed to bulge larger than the circumference of Charles' head... Or maybe that when unconscious, Peter really did look years younger than his age.

Charles struggled to keep up with Logan as the two made their way hurriedly to the car, his hands and arms burning as they were forced to work faster and faster to wheel himself alongside the man towering over him. The door to the backseat was already open when they reached the dingy rental car, Hank standing unsurely off to the side, balancing Tes in his lanky arms. His discomfort was obvious. Charles frowned.

_'Don't drop her, don't drop her, don't drop her, oh God don't-'_

Hank's thoughts were so loud Charles was certain for a moment that he was speaking aloud. As Logan settled Peter into the backseat of the run-down station wagon, the telepath wheeled himself over to where his oldest student stood awkwardly, his disquiet plain.

"Calm your nerves my friend, you won't drop her."

Hank's eyes darted towards the backseat. "She's so... Professor, she's so broken." The words, so hushed and soft, felt like a punch in the gut to Charles. Reluctantly his gaze skimmed Tes' injured frame, his examination increasing in speed with each cut, scrape and stitch he encountered until his eyes were flitting from the girl's prone form to Hank's somber brown eyes that always seemed to peek out from beneath his glasses almost timorously. Charles opened his mouth- _something_, he had to say something, anything, that would bolster the spirits of the young man before him.

A dog bayed then, the deep bass resonating through the dark tree-line ominously as more yelping and snarling rose to answer it. McCoy paled, his teeth grating together. His grip on Tesla tightened. Wheeling to the rear of the station wagon, Charles found Logan waiting impatiently.

"Hank, get Tes in the car!" He yelled as he was helped into the trunk. As the backdoor slammed behind him and the rusty sound of the engine revved to life, Charles swore he could see the haunting glow of luminous yellow eyes glaring back at him, sinister in the twilight that had begun to filter through the woods like a creeping shadow.

"Drive!" He shouted. Logan slammed on the gas and the car roared to life.

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

They made it onto the interstate in record time. Charles rubbed his temples, his ears still ringing with the fierce snarling of dogs unseen. It didn't help his headache much that he was currently splayed out in the trunk of a station wagon that seemed to have a knack for finding every bloody pothole on the road- or maybe Logan was as a horrible a driver as he was with his no-nonsense temper. At least he drove fast. _Speaking of Logan..._

"In your... alternate timeline... you said he didn't hit that speed until when?" Charles asked, raising his voice slightly so that he could be heard over the clattering rumble of the car's dusty engine.

"Ninety-four, thirty nine years old." Came the gruff reply.

Beside Logan, Hank whistled. "What do you think made him do it? Triggered the advancement of his mutation I mean. Such a drastic development skipping twenty years had to have been caused by something significantly extreme."

Charles glanced over his shoulder, his long brown hair tangling briefly with Peter's silvers strands. The speedster's head was resting on the worn leather that covered the tops of the seats, just beside Charles'. His eyes were shut tight, still lost in the dusky penumbra of unconsciousness. Once Logan had gotten Peter buckled into the back seat, Hank had layed Tesla down as gently and carefully (and slowly as was possible given the chaotic situation) as he could across the remaining seats. Now her head rested in Peter's lap, her dark hair limp and tangled, shaved in patches where scientists had run tests and taken samples.

"Judging by what I saw from his memories, he nearly didn't make it past the gate with Tesla on the way out." Charles rubbed his nose absently, a distance alight in his ice blue eyes as he recalled Peter's panicked, mind numbing consciousness seconds before he'd escaped.

Logan grunted, angling the car over towards an exit from the highway. "When I knew him, his ability to go supersonic was developed over time- he had to work at it."

"That may be but... back at the warehouse..." Charles shook his head, blinking once, twice. "He was scared. _Truly_ scared, and not just for himself. He realized he wasn't going to make it out- That his speed wasn't going to be enough this time. And then he looked down at Tesla and boom." His hands spread wide, mimicking his words. "Super speed times two."

Hank snorted. "More like times five."

"However he accumulated it in your future, Logan, I am not sure. But I am utterly certain that this time around, it was acquired in an entirely divergent manner. And I think the key to this perplexity," Charles shifted, turning with great effort so that he could look easily down at the two motionless forms huddled together in the backseat. "Greatly has to do with Tesla."

Hank turned his head. "You think so?"

Charles hummed once, low and sweet, in the back of his throat. "It has come to my understanding in life that incredibly marvelous things occur in the name of love, Hank. And this just may be one of them."


	4. Skinny Love

_A continuation from the previous chapter. The final chapter- Enjoy! _

_[[(Prompt: Comforting Pietro after an anxiety attack; Pietro being by your side through difficult times)]]_

* * *

**4. Skinny Love [[Birdy]]**

The man grabbed her hair, wrenching her head back and thrusting the needle straight into her neck. Tes screamed, hands scrabbling fiercely at the firm grip on her hair, her nails clawing deeply into flesh as the needle continued to sink deeper and deeper into her skin. Suddenly, she was thrown aside, the scientist cursing, his hands running with blood from the deep cuts she'd gouged into pink skin running red. Gripping her neck tightly, Tes dragged herself backwards, weak sobs lost to deaf ears falling hopeless from cracked lips as she pulled herself away painstakingly slowly, away, _away_- anywhere but where the man was. He was muttering now, holding the vial incased with her blood up to the light as he cursed the _"filthy mutant abominations"_ to the deepest pit of hell. Trembling, Tesla scooted backwards, taking refuge beneath the cold metal table that housed syringes, scalpels and pills that never failed to make her deliriously sick for days- instruments of torture used against her time and time again. Huddling underneath the table, Tes drew her knees to her chest, a quivering hand covered in her own blood coming to her lips in a pitiful attempt to muffle her ragged breathing. A pair of legs paced past the table, causing her to freeze in terror. She was safe here, he couldn't see her, they couldn't get her. As long as she remained beneath the table, she was safe.

A yell, so full of agony it caused Tesla's blood to frost- running sluggish through her veins- filled the air then, directly behind her. Burying her head beneath her arms, Tesla whimpered. The voice sounded so familiar. _Why_ did it sound so familiar? She was the only mutant in the facility that she was aware of, she had been since they'd brought her there, so- _so_- A groan, ragged and full of spasming pain, drew Tesla's head up so fast she clapped it on the metal above her. Slowly, rust on rust, like cogs that hadn't been oiled in a millennia, her head turned, her body rotating so that she could see just who it was that the scientists had captured this time. Who their knew plaything was. _Maybe they'll leave me alone now._ A whisper of relief coursed through her weary limbs, so faint, so minuscule, yet it sickened her all the same. She wouldn't wish this fate upon anyone, even with the promise of a respite from her torture dangling so temptingly before her.

On the operating table their was a body, a boy- about her age it looked like- strapped down so tightly he could barely move a fingersbreadth in his restraints. Poised over him, the scientist held in his right hand a scalpel, the light strapped to his forehead blinding even from where Tes was hidden. The man's arm moved then, the knife disappearing. The boy screamed again, his back arching in pure agony an inch off the table as the scream tapered out to another moan. A weak gasp escaped his lips. Tes felt a small sob grate painfully against the back of her throat as her hands shot up to cover her ears. Her eyes found the bloodstained front of the scientist's lab coat before they squeezed tightly shut. Nonononono, she would not watch this, could not- non_onono _she couldn't do this, she couldn't bare witness to this boy being experimented on, to being tortured.

"Peter," Tes whimpered, willing her minds-eye to draw up the image of her boyfriend, of dark, mischievous eyes and a warm grin pocketed by endearing dimples. Silvery hair that clung to his face in the rain and stood straight up when he ran, or at least according to what he'd told her ages ago... Yes, Peter, he always saved her; his memory, his face, the pang of love that resounded in her heart whenever she dredged his memory up from what little part of her mind still bore the light of happier times. "Peter," she whimpered again as the boy cried out and the scientist hissed for him to _'shut up_'. She needed him. She needed him. She needed him now.

"_Tes?_"

His voice was weak, full of a sickening pain that caused her mouth to run dry. It was Peter's voice. _But how...? _And then she realized.

"No!" Tes screamed, ripping herself from under the table without a second thought and tearing towards the operation table. The man was cutting into Peter again, another sample for his collection, another thing to be examined and tested and researched. Peter's head was turned towards hers, the trail of fallen tears shimmering on his pale cheeks beginning to dry as a glazed look took hold of his eyes.

"No!" She screamed again, reaching his head just as gloved hands grabbed her from behind. "Nonono! Peter! Peter wake up! Peter _look_ at me! Please- _Peter_ _please!_" Tes' hands were on Peter's body, his shoulders, his cheeks, her eyes sweeping over the mangled, bloody mess that had become of him. "Look what they've- _Oh my God_- What have they done to you?" She was being pulled away, faceless bodies swarming her, all in white lab coats splashed with blood. His blood. Their blood. Her hands were sticky. They were covered in the crimson liquid. Her eyes never left Peter's vacant ones. A strangled cry escaped her lips. He was dead. _He was dead_. They'd killed him. She'd hidden beneath a table while they'd killed him. Tes couldn't break free of their hold on her. Throwing back her head, she screamed.

"_Peter!_"

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

"_No!_" Tes rocketed upwards, eyes roving wildly around the dark room before landing on the motionless form splayed out beside her. Sweat trickled down her sticky skin, rolling like shards of melting ice from the nape of her neck down her spine as she sat, gasping like a dewatered fish in the dimness of pre-dawn light. Peering closer frantically, Tes felt the breath practically fly from her lungs at the sight of Peter, hair fanned chaotically about his head and jaw slack as he slept.

A dream. It had just been a dream.

Running a shaking hand over her sweat-slicked brow, Tes shoved the covers aside with a huff, slipping quietly from the bed and padding lightly across the hardwood floor to the chest of drawers. Showering was out of the question; the last thing she wanted to do was risk waking Peter up, especially since the last time he'd actually slept past dawn was seven months ago in July. Grabbing the first thing she saw, Tes undressed quickly, slipping Peter's shirt over her head reluctantly before reaching for her bra. Like a tick the nightmare still clung to her, reluctant to dissipate, and the familiarity of Peter's scent called to her like a songbird to the rising sun- she needed all the comfort she could get at the moment. It was too bad the shirt was too large for her to wear for anything other than sleep. Pulling on a nondescript pair of pants, Tes hesitated before opening another drawer and working Peter's letterman jacket from it's depths as quietly as she could, slinging it over her shoulders like a shield against the world.

Outside, the orange hues of sunrise were beginning to peak their way over the horizon, and absently Tes moved to the large window, drawing the curtains closer together so that only a fragmented tint of daylight whispered into the room. Turning, she circled around the bed to Peter's side, reaching for the alarm clock that ticked away upon the bedside table. A moment of tinkering later, Tes quietly replaced the ticking clock, the alarm disabled. Beside her, Peter sighed in his sleep, rolling so that he was facing her. Tes held her breath, afraid he'd wake up, but all the silver haired boy did was frown, his serene expression marred by the grimace she'd so often seen now upon his face. Sinking down slowly, Tes brushed aside a strand of hair that lay listless across his face, her lips caressing his cheek gently. It had been too long, far too long since he'd gotten a full night of sleep, and it showed in the purple half moon bruises under his eyes, the way his lips seemed to take forever to upturn into a dimpled smile, how chillingly quiet he'd become... Even his speed had been affected. Peter didn't think she noticed, and Tes was glad he didn't suspect her of knowing how much the past six months had haunted him. Running a hand through hair cropped shorter than she'd ever worn it, Tes let her fingers drag down her face, trying to ignore the way her head was beginning to pound like an unruly toddler throwing a tantrum. Reluctantly she left Peter's side, grabbing her bag and wincing when the door squeaked as she dragged it open slowly. With a final glance about the dark, quiet room, Tes turned, the door shutting behind her with a soft _snick_.

Her watch read six thirty-one. _Great_. With a groan Tes began the dark, stumbling walk down the second floor's west wing hallway, well aware that if anyone else were awake at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, they sure as hell weren't making a lot of noise about it. A chill nibbled at the back of her exposed neck as Tes reached the stairs, and unconsciously she reached upwards, about to swipe her hair like a curtain down around her creamy white skin. All her fingers brushed was air. And just like that, the memories that had been lurking like a cresting wave behind average swells in her subconscious spilled over the dams she'd been erecting for months- ever since she'd woken up in the hospital at the end of August, with an IV stuck in her arm and Peter's hand in hers. Her legs wobbled dangerously, and with a hand flying up to cover trembling lips Tes sunk down, finding the banister of the staircase and leaning against it as the deluge of recollected cognizance opened its gaping mouth wide and engulfed her.

She'd decided to have her hair cut two weeks after she'd returned to the mansion. Tesla had felt ridiculous when tears had slipped from the corners of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as Peter brought the scissors up to her dull, patchy locks. Trask's scientists had damaged it beyond repair, leaving it brittle and missing in several places where they'd shaved her head to take skin samples. When Peter had noticed her tears, the scissors had been set down and Tes pulled into his arms so fast that her reaction was momentarily lost. Finally, her arms had found their way around Peter's chest, and she had clung to him, burying her tear streaked face into the crook of his neck- embarrassed and scared and confused- for what had seemed like forever. Peter had held her just as tightly, whispering softly into her ear things that for the life of her Tes could not recall. He'd eventually made her laugh when he'd told her that his mother had always made him cut his younger sister's hair, and that once she'd been so fidgety that he'd accidentally chopped off several inches- but the sound was fragile, a hollow shell, void of the happiness that had always filled it.

That first night back from the hospital, Tes had told her mother that she wanted to go to Xavier's School. Because how could her mother understand? How could anyone from her old life possibly understand what she'd gone through, what she still had to go through every endless day of her life. To be a mutant. To be a victim of humanity's cruelness. And so a few days later she found herself being helped into the mansion by Logan. It had been a weekend, so most of the other students were either sleeping or at home with their families. Hobbling around on a single leg, her other bound tightly in a cast, Tes could only watch as Hank hustled up and down the stairs with bag after bag while Peter hovered at her side and the Professor spoke quietly with another one of the teachers. Tes had told Hank as soon as he'd reached for one of her suitcases to take them up to Peter's room. He had nodded with a quick, unsure smile. No one since had ever questioned their shared board situation, not even Charles. It was a way to cope, and Tes suspected that the Professor understood more than anyone her need for the silver haired boy- her rescuer- in the dark hours of the night. Back then Tes had been fragile, unstable. She'd had more bandages covering her skin than skin, and the memory of her appearance, her helplessness, still haunted her. She never wanted to feel that way again. And always Peter by her side. Helping her when she needed a hand, holding her when she needed to be held. He'd saved her, in more ways than one.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed the half hour with a low, solemn _gong_ of it's bell, and resolutely Tes climbed to her feet, switching her direction from heading down to, instead, heading up. For as long as he'd been a resident at the school, the biochemist had always roomed on the top floor of the mansion. Before, when her leg had still been cocooned in the ugly white of the cast, Beast had made it a top priority to visit Tes constantly, keeping her company when Peter was away or the Professor couldn't see her for one of their daily therapy sessions. In a way, Tes supposed, they had become very good friends. Best friends- all through her recovery at the hands of Trask. Even Peter had managed to get on better terms with the lanky scientist. Tes felt a small smile brighten her features at the memory of the two boys coloring her cast with a rainbow of markers- with Peter's assistance, it had only taken ten minutes.

Now, as she made her way up the stairs to his room, Tes felt an overwhelming pang of gratitude for the quirky scientist. No matter how socially awkward he liked to dub himself as, Hank was an excellent listener, and always managed to make her laugh when she needed it most, it seemed- the only other person who could do that was Peter. With an hour and a half until their shared chemistry class (of which Hank was the teacher), Tesla could only hope that he was awake as she rapped on the door to his room softly. It opened almost immediately.

"Hey Tes," Hank smiled. He looked like he'd been up for hours. Tesla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Of course. _

"Hey Beastie," Tes murmured. Her voice cracked. She winced, biting her lip. The door swung open wider then, Hank stepping to the side.

"Well you'd better come in, we might as well make a party out of our insomnia."

Tes snorted and stepped across the door's threshold.

Two hours later, halfway through a particularly interesting lecture Hank was giving on the DNA behind identical twins, Tes stiffened in the back of the classroom, her pencil falling from her grasp at the feeling of a familiar, warm presence trickling into her subconscious.

_'Professor?'_

_ 'Tesla, I hate to interrupt Hank's lesson, but it is critical that you make your way to your room with the utmost haste.'_

His voice was relaxed, the palsy lick of his accent echoing in her mind fringed with the ache of sleep. But Tes had had Charles Xavier in her head enough over the past six months to know when something was off. And something was_ most definitely_ off. Standing, she hardly cared at the way her chair scraped the floor violently as she excused herself in a rush, exiting the room and flying down the hall in a whirlwind. She'd forgotten her bag- the passing thought was hardly registered as Tes dodged a few students who were plodding along leisurely before her. It didn't matter, the key to her room was in her pocket.

_ 'It's Peter isn't it? What's wrong? What happened?'_

She was skipping steps now, practically sprinting up the staircase. People were watching, talking, shouting things after her. Tes couldn't hear them. All she could hear was the Professor's audible sigh that clouded her head in a foggy white exhale as she flew around a corner.

_ 'Professor?'_

_ 'He's had another nightmare, a particularly bad one.' _ Charles' words were quicker now, more urgent._ 'In his confusion directly after he woke he managed to project his thoughts loud enough for me to pick up on... Tesla, I fear he's having an anxiety attack.'_

"Shit." She fumbled clumsily with the key to the room, her fingers clammy and trembling. With a click that seemed to stretch the ages the door unlocked and then Tes was inside, abandoning the key stuck fast in the lock and shutting the old door behind her hurriedly.

He was the first thing she set her gaze upon, his back to her, bare to the touch, taut muscles and pearly white skin hardly visible in the gloom of the drowsy room. He was slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees, and as Tes rounded the bed she saw that his face was hidden, shielded from sight by hands that trembled. She blinked. Peter's whole body was shaking, and this time, it wasn't because of his speedy jitters. This, she knew, was fear, bone deep and suffocating.

"Peter," Tes breathed, crouching down in front of him and tapping his arm gently. Even in the off-lighting, she could easily make out the sheen of sweat painted to his torso. "Peter."

He was gasping, the air wheezing to and from his lips a rasping pant that had Tesla fighting to push down her own panic as he suddenly choked on a breath fighting its way past his constricting lungs.

"It's my fault. It'smyfault. She died _becauseofme_. I wasn't fast enough, I-"

Tesla's heartbeats were rapid, each beat a hammer pounding within her chest as her hands came up to gently rest on either of Peter's knees. In the ensuing months since her rescue from Trask, Peter had been diagnosed with minor post traumatic stress disorder. And he wasn't the only one in the mansion to have it. Many of the teachers who had been drafted into the war would wake some nights screaming and screaming, their desks vacant the next day come class time. It was brutal, yet as the days ticked by and the Professor's efforts at his brand of therapy continued, the night terrors began to fade, and mornings were filled with lectures instead of empty classrooms. The first time Peter had woken from a nightmare like this, Tes had been just as scared as he. It had taken both herself and the Professor to calm the speedster down. The next time it happened, triggered by a class lab focused on the dissection of a frog, it had taken her nearly twenty minutes to find Peter after he'd flown from the room. But she did find him. This time, as she drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, Tesla steeled herself. She was calm. She was ready. She knew what she had to do.

"Pietro," She whispered soothingly, reverting to his birth name. "It's not your fault Pietro, I'm here. It's me, it's Tesla. Pietro you're awake. You're awake. It's not real, you're awake. I'm alive. Look at me, _I'm alive_."

A large, brown iris was suddenly visible, and then another as Peter's glassy eyes peeked out from behind the shelter of his hands, his gaze distant; hauntingly vacant. Tesla forced herself to take a breath, her chest constricted. The slight motion caused Peter's eyes to flick in her direction so quickly the movement was a blur. A shudder rippled through him, his trembling escalating so that he was practically vibrating, the edges of his frame hazing as he shook.

"She's dead, she's dead. This is a trick. _You'renotrealshe'sdead_. Trask is tricking me, _they'refuckingwithme_."

He was still caught, trapped in the night terror like a fly in a spider's web.

"I'm real," Tesla soothed, her words a low, soft lull that ghosted over Peter's frenzied, repeated words like a cool gust of wind. "I'm real and I'm hear. It's me Pietro, I'm in front of you. You're awake. You're awake...

Peter whimpered, shaking his head, and slowly- ever so slowly- Tesla raised her hands bringing them up to where his rested against his cheeks. She didn't grab his hands, didn't attempt to lower them- Tes had learned long ago when the attacks had started that the last thing she wanted to do was try and control Peter in any way. So instead she waited, patient as the day was long, whispering soothing words over Peter's trembling and gasping.

"Do you remember when you first told me you loved me?" She murmured, and beneath her hands she felt a slight give in pressure, a shift in muscles and tendons as Peter began to relax. "All the lights in the stadium went out, and we all started chanting _'encore, encore,'_ and then the lights turned back up and nearly blinded us, but we didn't care, no one did." Peter's hands went slack, and as slowly and gently as she could, Tes entwined her fingers with his. "And the crowd just roared and screamed, and we were cheering so loud we lost our voices the next day, and then Pink Floyd started the tune for _'Us and Them'_ and all the girls around us started loosing their minds, and we were mimicking them and just laughing and laughing, so hard it hurt." She lowered their hands to Peter's knees, her eyes never leaving his. "And then everyone was screaming the chorus and swaying, and I looked up at you, and you looked down at me and said, 'I love you,' and I felt like my heart was going to explode into a thousand little pieces... And then you kissed me, and we were lost in a sea of people, oblivious to everyone but each other..." Tesla could see it now, the light returning to his eyes. She longed to reach up, to wipe the tears streaking his cheeks away, to kiss each droplet, each hurt, from his eyes away, to erase it from his memory forever. But all she could do was whisper softly, "Do you remember, Peter?"

The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with the anticipation of a response... or lack thereof. Tes felt lightheaded as she stared up at her boyfriend, fear clawing at her mind that what if it _hadn't_ worked? What if he were still trapped, ensnared in the waking terror that was Trask. Her knees ached from kneeling for so long, but as Peter suddenly blinked all she could think of was _is he awake? Is he conscious of where he really is? Or-_

"Tes?" Peter croaked, his voice hoarse, raw from yelling in the throws of his nightmare. Tesla knew, she'd been awoken enough nights to know. Peter blinked, his face contorting, disoriented. "Tes?" He breathed.

"I'm here," Tesla said, watching with barely suppressed alarm as a fresh tear began to slide down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. Peter's hands were still trembling in her grasp, his body quaking, but it wasn't as violent. He was calming down.

"You were _dead_," he choked out, blinking away another tear as it clouded his vision. It dripped down, splashing with a patter against their intertwined fingers. "We were escaping but the gate closed too quickly and I- I wasn't-" Peter drew a breath that sent a tremor of spasming shivers through his body. He shook his head, dropping Tes's gaze. "I wasn't fast enough and they took you and- and-"

"Shh, it was a bad dream," Tes shushed, raising from her knees and ignoring their creaking protests as she settled herself beside Peter on the bed. Wrapping an arm around his, she closed her eyes, resting her head against Peter's shoulder. "It was a bad dream. You got me out, remember?"

"But what if I hadn't?" Peter's voice broke, barely more than a hush.

"But you did, Pietro. You did. And now Trask has been exposed completely, thanks to you and Charles' testimonies at court. Remember? He's locked up. They're all locked up. Rotting in prison for the rest of their lives." Tes sat up, turning so that she faced Peter. The silver haired boy didn't budge, his head hanging low, hair dripping into his line of vision and shielding his gaze from sight. "And we're here. Safe."

Slipping from his side, Tes hurried into the bathroom, dousing a washcloth with cool water before returning to Peter and dabbing gently at the beads of sweat dotting his neck and forehead, aware of the way his ragged breathes danced along the inside of her arm, still too uncomfortably uneven for her liking.

"Breathe in through your nose, Peter." Tes murmured, holding the cold cloth to his brow with her right hand while her left found comfort in stroking through his silver hair lethargically. Peter did as she requested, exhaling through barely parted lips in a rush.

"Slower," Tes hummed, swiping the cloth gently from the edge of his brow down to where it came to rest at the nape of his neck. "Breath in slower for me." Peter complied, his brow knitting together as he struggled to regain control. This time, when he exhaled, it was less erratic. Four minutes later, when Peter's breathing was just about as normal as it ever was (she still forgot how much _faster_ he normally breathed compared to everyone else), Tes sighed, her relief bubbling up and nearly causing a laugh to escape her lips. Checking herself, she hastily gave Peter a once over, scanning his face thoroughly as she removed the cloth from his neck. Standing, she felt his eyes trained on her back as she tossed the cloth in the hamper, moving to the bureau and pulling from it a jacket and a particular pair of silver sneakers. Glancing at the grey sweats Peter usually slept in, Tes reclaimed her spot beside her boyfriend, placing his shoes in front of him before holding out his jacket for him to take. The questioning look she received was almost comical in its confusion. Tesla held back a snort.

"We should go for a walk, get out of this stuffy room, y'know?"

Like the breaking of the sun from behind clouds, a small smile flitted onto Peter's lips, his dimples pressing shallow patterns into his cheeks.

"O-okay."

**_~*~Quicksilver~*~_**

Compared to the previous year's snowstorm that had torn its way across the east coast, the winter of 1975 was not exactly what Tes would call exciting. They'd hardly had any snow, and the ground that crunched beneath their feet was crisp and delicate, crumbling into brown dust as they made their way around the side of the mansion. Despite the lack of snow, the cold was as attendant as ever, a frigid wind buffeting the couple as they turned the corner of the school, causing Tes to duck closer to Peter as a shiver chased gooseflesh up her legs to her spine and beyond. Despite his letterman jacket never failing to keep her warm during their lessons held in the drafty rooms of the mansion, Tes would be the first to agree that it had no business being worn in the middle of winter in New York, no matter how small the walk it was being taken on. Nevertheless, when Tes spotted several other students playing a rather passionately brutal game of rugby on the large lawn beside the school, she was quick to suggest watching. Peter was doubly so in finding a bench for them, his speed causing several of the younger students involved in the game to turn and stare as he suddenly reappeared at Tesla's side.

"Found one," he murmured, the ghost of a smug smile gracing his lips. Tes beamed. When they'd finally sat down, Peter with his arm slung around her and Tes with her head nestled against his shoulder, the game was well underway. Digging into the pocket of her borrowed jacket, Tes pulled a plum from it's depths, handing it to Peter who took it unsurely.

"Where'd you get this?" He asked, swiping the fruit from her hand in the blink of an eye. Tes smiled to herself; Peter was slowly coming back to her.

"I've had it since breakfast this morning."

Peter frowned. "It's ten o'clock Tes... How long have you been up?"

"A while," Tes sighed, winking. Pointing at the plum, she grinned. "I snagged the last one this morning, so you'd better eat it." She threatened playfully. Peter chuckled.

"What'd you do? Electrocute some poor twelve year old for it?"

Peter's joking was incredibly close to what had actually happened, but Tes would never admit that to him. He'd forever tease her for it- she'd never live it down.

"One of the professors, actually," Tes mumbled, causing Peter to snort as he bit into the dark fruit, finishing it literally three seconds later and tossing it into the bushes behind them.

"Was it Hank?"

"Pietro Maximoff!" Tes exclaimed, swatting at him jokingly, "you have an unhealthy obsession with torturing that man."  
"He makes it too easy," Peter laughed. Tes giggled, a slender hand reaching up to rub away an irritating itch on the top of her hand, the sleeve of Peter's track jacket sliding down in the process. There was a sudden pause followed by Peter blanching and sucking in a severe, shocked breath. Tes' eyes tracked his, coming to land on the thin, raised skin where scars had formed, souvenirs from her time spent with Trask Industries. Ripping the sleeve down hastily, the frantic, energetic screams of the playing children seemed to fade into nothing as Tes watched Peter retreat into himself. Just as swiftly as he'd been warming up to her and the waking world, now he was thrust back into the nightmare of the past. Tes lowered her eyes. Recovering, as the victim, had been hard. The hardest thing she'd ever done. Every day was a struggle, continued to _be_ a struggle, but she was coping, with the help of Charles and Hank, and Peter and the other kids and teachers. Her family away from her family. But Peter... He blamed himself. For not knowing she'd been taken. For not being able to protect her. For leaving her in the clutches of such evil for nearly half a month. And Tes knew, he beat himself up every day for it. She was getting tired of that.

"Quicksilver."

Peter flinched faster than the naked eye could track, unaccustomed to the unexpected change of name and tone. He glanced at Tes before looking away, his face a mask of barely concealed misery.

"_Look at me_." Tes growled. Peter shifted towards her almost reluctantly.

"Why'd you call me Quicksilver?" The word's tumbled from his lips in a scrambled blitz, but Tesla had the answer already poised upon her lips.

"Because that's who you are, isn't it? Quicksilver, the boy who broke into the Pentagon, the most secure location in the United States. A kleptomaniac who likes to take his girlfriend on stealing sprees-"

"-But I-"

"The fastest man in the world." Tes steamrolled through Peter's sentence, her voice growing louder, fiercer, more urgent. "You went into that warehouse singlehandedly to get me out, Peter. _You_." Tes shook her head, feeling tears beginning to brim over like water bursting from an eroding dam. "I've loved you since the day we met, you know. Ever since I saw you." Tesla sniffled, "You and your stupid pranks and your smug grin. I fell in love with you a long time ago, Peter Maximoff." Peter's eyes blew wide, his mouth falling open, but Tes didn't give him a chance to speak. "I know how ridiculous that sounds, and I know it's pretty sappy. But please," Tes' voice broke then, the tears finally too overwhelming to contain. "_Please_, don't do this to me. Don't push me away. Not after all we've been through together."

Peter's face was a mask of pure astonishment, his dark eyes blown wide and nostrils flared. "Tesla..."

"You can't blame yourself for what happened. And you do. It haunts you, like ghosts in the walls it follows you, haunts you, _tortures_ you." Tesla whispered. "And I see it take hold. And it's not fair. Not to you, and not to me..." She began to fidget then, suddenly self conscious. Hastily she dropped Peter's gaze. "The Professor once told me, during one of my sessions with him, he said, 'Tesla, what's the point of living in the past? This is the present, you must dwell on the here and now, because it might not always be with you'... I took that to heart, Peter, and when I see these scars now," Tesla yanked back her sleeve, exposing the long, deep rifts that ran along the skin of her arm. "When I see these I think of how strong I am, to have overcome something like that. And I think of how strong you are, for staying with me, protecting me. Even when you don't have to-"

"Of course I have to, I love you, Tes."

They'd talked about Peter needing to learn to control himself whenever they became intimate- he would get too excited, forget himself, speed up- but in that moment all recollection of those discussions became lost to them both as Peter darted forward, his lips finding Tesla's within a millisecond, so fast that she'd been just beginning to speak when his lips connected with her own, crushing whatever words she was about to utter as he kissed her deeply, his hand claiming the nape of her neck as he forced himself to slow down to what felt like a painstakingly slow crawl. Except _everything_ felt like a slow crawl to Peter, and if this was to be included in that vast category, well then who the hell was he to complain? Tesla's eyes slid closed, her arms coming up to wrap themselves around him, hands tangling themselves in silver hair as she arched up into his touch. To Tesla, the kiss lasted less than a second. To Peter, it seemed like it was forever that he basked in the feeling of her lips against his own. They broke apart gasping softly, their breath puffing white in the air in front of them.

"I'm sorry." Peter gasped, "that you- you should have told me-"  
"Don't," Tes breathed, "don't be. Just-" Tes leaned forward, Peter meeting her halfway, and they were kissing again, Peter leaning into her hungrily, his lips dancing against her own as if he were starved of breath and Tes was his only lifeline.

"_Eww!_"

Tes and Peter broke apart, turning to stare at the little ten year old who stood pointing, clutching the rugby ball to his chest as if it would provide him some semblance of warmth in the frigid winter air. "Gross!'

"Come on squirt, start playing before I tackle you." Alex Summer's husky voice echoed across the field, and Tes and Peter laughed, grinning at the elder man. Turning back to one another, Peter rested his forehead against Tes', his eyes catching the way her blue lips trembled, her jaw clenched to keep teeth from chattering together loudly. He grinned.

"Are you cold, Tes?'

"_No_." Tes rolled her eyes sarcastically. "Your jacket's keeping me _so_ warm."

Flitting to his feet, Peter's hand suddenly flickered in front of her face.

"Come on, let's go get some hot chocolate."

Tes allowed Peter to pull him to her feet. "But we're all out. Alex and Logan drank it all. Again." She complained, her eyes rolling irritatedly though the affection within them was plain to see.

Finger's intertwined, the couples' arms swung back and forth childishly as they trudged back towards the mansion. Peter snickered.

"You know that little coffee shop in town?"

"Yeah..."  
"I'll race you there!" Peter cried, breaking free of Tes' grasp and speeding up, out of sight. Tes giggled as a gust of wind suddenly flew by her hair, the short strands waving wildly in the wind as Peter materialized by her side once more.

"How many laps?" Tes asked knowingly.

"Four, knocked a couple kids on their asses on the second, nearly ran over Logan on the third. Gonna have to avoid him for a day or two, I think he knew it was me..."

Tes buried her head in her hands with a groan. "What am I going to do with you?"

Peter grinned and suddenly Tes squealed as he scooped her up in his arms.

"I dunno, come get hot chocolate with me?"

Tes giggled. "You don't have any money do you?"  
"Nope."  
"We're gonna steal it, aren't we?"

"Yep. And maybe some donuts too, if you're hungry for some."  
"Starving."

Peter grinned, and for the first time in six months, his smile touched his eyes. Their light was back. "Alright then, let's go."

Tes tucked her head into the crook of Peter's neck, and then they were gone in a cloud of dust. Across the field, one of Alex's friends sighed.

"I wish _I_ could do that."

Rolling his eyes, Alex hurled the ball at him, chuckling as it caught the twenty-something in the chest, knocking him off his feet with a _huff_.

"Ow!"

"You're not even fast enough to catch a ball, what makes you think you could catch a girl like that?"

"Oh fuck off Alex!"

"_Dude_, the kids are out here!"

"Oh, right. Sorry!"

* * *

_Notes: Not sure if Alex was alive after DOFP (it was my thinking that he wasn't, considering that his platoon was a part of the autopsy reports found by Mystique during the movie), but I just couldn't resist throwing him in here at the end. I mean, who would say no to a little Alex cameo? Crazy people. Dingo ate my baby crazy people, that's who._


End file.
